


Number Seven.

by zahrawrites



Series: The 'I Love You' Series [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe, Living Together, M/M, Pining, idk what else to tag it as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahrawrites/pseuds/zahrawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I dreamt about you last night."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Number Seven.

"C’mon Sammy, you can’t tell her that, that’s fucking weird."

"What’s weird?" Castiel asks when he enters the apartment.

"Sammy’s been havin’ _dreams_ about Jess, you know the girl in one of his classes that I was tellin’ you about?"

Castiel nods. "Jessica Moore. Criminal Law, blonde hair, shares the same birth date as you." he rattles off all while taking off his jacket and shoes and coming to hover over Dean’s cooking. He makes a grab for a boiled potato but receives a _whack_ on the back of the hand with a wooden spoon.

"Yeah, that one."

Castiel sticks his tongue out at Dean and waits till his back’s turned to pick one and shove it in his mouth.

"What kind of dreams?" he asks curiously, sliding onto the kitchen stool at the island, nearer to where the younger Winchester’s been placed on loudspeaker.

"Sex dreams." Dean says lasciviously, throwing him a smug grin.

"No, it’s not!" Sam defends loudly.

The roommates laugh.

"Fine, laugh it up." The younger Winchester sulks. "I’ll call you later."

Sam hangs up before Castiel can ever begin to apologise. He reaches forward to switch off the dial tone that rings in place of Sam’s voice.

"Was it really a… sex dream?" Castiel asks curiously, folding his arms over the counter.

Dean shrugs. "Probably."

Castiel inclines his head expectantly.

"Nah, not really." He admits. "But it’s weird though, right?" Dean turns the heat down, puts the lid on the pot and lets it simmer for a while. He turns around to face Cas, hands braced on the counter behind him.

Castiel blinks in response, unsure of what to say.

"The whole dream thing I mean. It’s just… that doesn’t _normally_ happen, right?" The way he asks suggests there’s more to say than just the words coming out of his mouth.

Dean’s gaze is searching, curious as to what Castiel will reply with.

The other boy shrugs nonchalantly, plucks an apple from the fruit bowl and bites into it.

"I dreamt about you last night." He states casually, like he’s telling Dean about the weather.

Dean’s expression is laughable.

"Wh-what do you mean?" he stammers, rubbing at the back of his head.

Castiel smiles, all teasing and smug.

"Oh, wouldn’t you like to know…" he says and slides off the stool to vault over the couch and flick on the TV.

"That’s kinda why I asked." Dean replies, following him into the living area.

Castiel takes another bite into the fruit and shrugs again.

"You kissed me."

Dean chokes on air.

"Seriously?"

Castiel is looking _way_ too smug for Dean’s liking. He nods simply in response to his question. Dean falters for a moment before deciding to try a different tactic. He leans back against the couch, shoulder-to-shoulder with Cas and turns his gaze to the television.

"Huh."

Cas’ head flicks to him so fast, he sees from the corner of his vision, that Dean thinks it should qualify as whiplash. A small smirk plays at his lips but he tamps down on it, purposely remaining poker-faced. He’s curious about how Cas will react.

" _Huh_? That’s it?" The other boy asks finally, after the long few seconds he spends struggling for words.

Dean glances at him and shrugs nonchalantly. "Yup." He replies, popping the p and looking back at the TV again.  

"Kissed loadsa people-" he elaborates. "-it’s not that special."

Castiel thinks Dean is trying to rouse him, his eyes narrow slightly in suspicion.

"We live together, we’ve known each other for-fucking-ever, _god knows_ when you last got laid - it’s not _that_ surprising." Dean expands, keeping his gaze focused on the screen while Cas bores holes in the side of his head.  

Castiel scoffs a laugh and finally turns his head away towards the screen, then quietens.

Dean could let it go; could let the conversation fade into the floorboards and never speak about it again. They could do it. Cas would get the message and never bring it up. Cas is perceptive like that.

But Dean’s a little shit. He curses himself internally before opening his mouth.

"What? You think _our_ kiss was different to any of the other ones I’ve had?" his tone is neutral but there’s a challenge in his eyes that Cas doesn’t see until they turn to look at each other a second later.

"I’m sure of it." He sounds sure.

"…nah." Dean denies simply.

"Fine."

The warmth of the body running down his side is left cold when Cas stands abruptly, tossing his apple core in the trashcan, and leaves the room heading towards the bedrooms.

"Cas, c’mon…" he says as he stands a trails after the boy.

"No, it’s fine. You stick to your _mediocre_ kisses and I’ll just-"

"I’m not sayin’ it wasn’t- Cas, wouldya just listen? Cas-" he reaches out to grab Cas’ wrist quickly and tugs him backward so his steps falter and he has to rely on Dean to balance his weight.

"Dean!"

Dean rebalances him, by pressing his back against the nearest wall and crowding him against it. One hand is around Cas’ wrist the other is on his hip. His breathing is coming a little harsher than moments before. There’s half an inch of difference in height between them, it would be easy for Dean to bump his nose against Cas’ and kiss the _ever-loving_ shit out of him.

But he doesn’t.

He enjoys Cas underneath him like this, and it’s not like the other boy is desperate to escape from the position.

"What?" Dean teases when he notices how there’s a growing pink blush heating Cas’ cheeks.

"Nothing." Cas says surprisingly steady, he glances up at Dean through his lashes, features smoothing out, confidence returning.

Dean creeps the hand at Cas’ wrist into his hand cautiously, it’s nothing more than a tangle of fingers and thankfully, Cas doesn’t refuse him, just glances momentarily down towards it before looking up at Dean again.

"So… this dream you were talking about." Dean starts, licking his lips.

Cas notices.

"Was it something like this?"

Castiel quirks a knowing smile. "Similar."

"Oh?" Dean murmurs and tilts his head slightly, lines his nose up to be able to slot his lips easily over Cas’.

"Mmhm." Cas agrees, just about enough space between them to get a small nod in.

"What was different?" Dean’s murmur falls to a whisper, hand squeezing at Cas’ hip.

"You really wanna know?" Cas asks. Dean has to hand it to him, the guy’s voice hasn’t faltered yet but Dean’s determined.

He leans in, winds both his hands into both of Cas’ and presses them to the wall just above his head. Dean suddenly becomes acutely aware of how everything just _dims_ around them; the traffic, the leaky tap, the upstairs neighbours…. _everything_. Cas’s breathing has calmed significantly, slow in-and-outs, steady rise-and-falls of his chest that brush Dean’s with every expansion. He likes how Cas’ eyes glint, standing out against tanned skin in the 2pm sun; it’s rays streaking across the wall their crowded against, illuminating chocolate brown hair and a stubbled jawline that he would not mind sinking his teeth into until Cas’ back arched.

"Tell me." Dean croons softly, voice dripping honey.

He’s in control.

He’s the ultimate picture of tranquillity.

…If only Cas could hear how resolutely his heart was jackhammering, beating a tattoo into his ribcage.

"Well, for one…" pink lips move, then a tongue peeks out to wet them.

Something changes and Cas tips his head back, away from Dean’s lips. He brings their hands down, sliding them out of Dean’s but maintaining the proximity.

"… _you were on your knees_." He whispers and Dean’s legs almost give out, composure faltering when Cas pushes down gently on his shoulder with his index and middle finger, and he goes.  

Castiel smirks, pleased with the view he has.

Dean Winchester. On his knees, practically salivating, mouth parted and eyes wide.

Then, he bends forward, nose-to-nose with Dean, the other boy almost chasing the proximity.

"I never said it was my _lips_ you were kissing."

And then he’s gone, straight to his bedroom, closing the door behind him, leaving Dean a breathless wreck on the floor.

" _Fuck_."

Dean doesn’t ask Cas about his _dreams_ after that; he doesn’t think his heart could take it.


End file.
